The Mammoth Book of Locked-Room Mysteries And Impossible Crimes

this gentleman to Rome.”

“This is outrageous,” Claudia hissed.

“I know,” Max admitted. By the gods, she could squirm! “But I can’t allow people to go around slandering me, particularly well-connected patrician policemen.”

“He says-”

“I know what he says, and perhaps he genuinely believes I’m up to my ears in extortion or blackmail, but Jupiter’s balls, I’m no gangster. I won’t have the slur bandied about. Now, Orbilio’s pride might be hurt, riding home hogtied, but it will only be pride.”

He released her at last, leaving them both panting and red from exertion.

“What of his claim that Junius’ injuries aren’t consistent with a fall?” she spat, and to her astonishment, Max burst out laughing.

“Have you seen the bruises on that poor bugger’s body? Junius hit his head on a rock, Claudia. Knocked himself out – and you know yourself what happens when drunks roll about. The body goes limp.”

Actually, that was true…

“Orbilio’s problem,” Max chuckled, “is not that I might be a gangster, not even that I make more money than Midas by ripping off rich bastards hand over fist. His problem is, I have you!”

Claudia slipped off the armband, the one set with carnelians and pearls, and ran it round and round in her hand. “Like you have Soni, you mean?”

Aegean blue eyes flickered briefly. “Soni,” he said, “is a slave. Yes, I own slaves. Yes, unlike you, I don’t treat them as equals. And yes, I’ve been married five times, if that’s what you’re driving at, but I never think of women as chattels.” He drew a deep breath. “Whether you believe me or not is another matter,” he added.

“Whether I believe you,” she said slowly, “rests on my seeing Soni, face to face, right this minute.”

An astonished expression crossed Max’s face. “Are you serious?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No, of course not,” he stuttered. “It’s just that… It’s just that I’m jealous, my love. I know I can’t compete with a stripling half my age and whose pecs are solid steel, but… well, I’m not in bad shape and, unlike a slave, I can give you wealth unimaginable-”

Not unimaginable, Max. I’ve imagined it many times.

“I want to buy Soni,” she snapped, “not sleep with the boy.” If everything was above board, then there would be no obstacle. Max had denied her nothing so far.

“Ah.” For a moment, he faltered, then the old seductive laugh returned as he led her back through the lofty atrium, rich with its cedarwood oils. “In that case, darling, you must accept him as a gift, with my compliments. May he serve you as well as he’s served me.”

Claudia felt a tidal wave of relief wash over her. For once, Supersnoop was wide of the mark. Junius had simply cracked his head on a rock before falling down that ravine! But what of Soni?

Suppose, she thought, trailing her hand in the fountain as she passed, Max had decided to satisfy himself that Soni was all that he’d seemed? Soni’s refusal to comply with a criminal act would have blown his cover right out of the water, and suddenly Claudia was extremely keen to meet the man who had staged his own disappearance in broad daylight without arousing suspicion and yet had returned with a convincing explanation!

Glancing at Max, suave and easy, Claudia found no problem in picturing him up to his ears in racketeering, using the hunts as a front, both to make deals at the highest of levels and also to enforce any threats. He led her in to his office and clapped his hands. Immediately, a negro slave answered the call.

“Fetch Soni here, will you?”

“Master?” the old man’s face creased in a frown.

“Stop dithering, man. Just fetch him. Shoo!”

Strong hands poured two goblets of rich honey mead, hesitating a fraction before handing Claudia hers. “You- You aren’t going to marry me, are you?” Max asked quietly.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”

His gifts were welcome, of course – the tiaras, the earstuds. But the Great Plan had been to ingratiate herself with his wealthy clientele and sign them up for hefty consignments of Seferius wine. Well-oiled (thanks to Max) they’d be pushovers for good, vintage wine and would be in no mood to worry about loaded prices. Especially when the alternative was this sickly concoction. Yuk. Two parts thunderbolt, one part bile, it was watered down with three ladlefuls of the River Styx. No wonder they had to add honey!

“Claudia -”

His voice came from down a dark tunnel, and the tunnel was closing in all around.

“Claudia?”

The voice echoed like stones in a barrel and her vision grew cloudy. Bloody mead! Filthy stuff.

“Is everything all right, darling?”

“Perfectly.”

But everything was not all right.

Jellified knees gave way. Lights went dim. And Claudia collapsed in a heap on the floor.

V

Was she dead? Was this blackness Stygian gloom? There were no three-headed dogs about, but there was barking. Claudia tried to lift her head, and found it had been glued to the floor. When she finally raised it, she wanted to hold it with both hands to prevent it rolling into the corner.

Except… Except her hands had been glued down, as well. She couldn’t lift them. Ignoring the hammering inside her head, she tried harder. And found not hangover lethargy, but ropes binding her tight.

“I’m sorry it ended like this,” said a familiar voice from the corner. The chair creaked when he stood up. “But you would keep pressing the subject of Soni. Oh, Claudia. If only you’d let it go.”

Primeval creatures slithered down Claudia’s spine. And how strange. High summer, yet her teeth were chattering… She struggled, but the knots were professional and her skin chafed itself raw.

“You know.” When he knelt down, she could smell the leather of his boots. “You really are very lovely.” He ran a hand gently down the length of her cheek. “Had your brain been full of feathers, we could have had a wonderful marriage and raised some damned good looking kids.” He sighed at what was not to be. “Unfortunately, though, dawn is breaking. Time to leave.”

Cold. So very cold. “People will come looking for me,” she gabbled. “Marcus, for one, won’t let it drop-”

“Ah, but this is terrible country for bandits. So many tragic accidents can befall a beautiful woman.” Either Max had thought it out carefully during the night, or else he’d done this before. “Oh, don’t look like that.” He dragged her to her feet and propelled her to the door. “I’m not so hard- hearted that I won’t pay for a lavish funeral tribute and endow the most magnificent of marble tombs you could